The Soldier
by wsherlocksholmes
Summary: John Watson is an alpha soldier sent on a mission to protect the omega Sherlock Holmes as a war threatens the entire country of England. AU. Omegaverse.
1. Chapter 1

"Sherlock, we have to leave."

"I don't want to."

"I don't care if you don't want to. You have to."

"Why?"

Mycroft gave an exasperated sigh. "Because the attack has come. It's not safe here anymore. I'm being relocated."

Sherlock pouted and crossed his arms. "You're the bloody government! Can't you do something?"

"I've held off as long as I could. We can't risk waiting any longer. The soldiers are arriving today to transport us."

* * *

John Watson watched the scenery pass by. He had been in the war zones. He knew the damage firsthand. Still, it was hard to look at the rolling hills and pristine streams and know it was all going to hell. Soon the enemy would be near and the countryside would be in flames.

Watson wasn't too happy to be sent on this mission. He wanted to be back on the front lines, knowing he was contributing to the cause. He missed the adrenaline that coursed through his veins as bullets whizzed past and explosions rang all around. He didn't want to go on this special mission when he could be protecting the country elsewhere.

He didn't want to be the protector of some arrogant rich arse either.

It seemed stupid to him. If the Holmes family was really so important, why hadn't they been relocated earlier? And why did he have to be the designated personal bodyguard of the younger son? According to rumors, the older brother had picked his file specifically. Had been impressed with his shooting accuracy and record of selflessness, risking his life many times for his comrades.

Watson didn't have a problem risking his life for a good soldier fighting alongside him for the protection of the nation. He did have an issue with sacrificing himself for a pompous brat who could afford the extraordinary fees required to escape the draft. A coward. All alphas were drafted.

Hell, he was supposed to be in college. Working to become a surgeon. Setting up a cozy future where he wouldn't have to stress over every last coin. But he was an alpha. It was his duty, and the law, for him to join the army once the epidemic broke out.

And some bloody Holmes boy got out of the constant struggles he faced every day because he had the luck of being born a Holmes. Everyone knew all the Holmes were alphas. They were notorious alpha producers. If Watson had been in the same circumstance, he would have still gone to war.

He didn't necessarily resent it. But it wasn't all rainbows and butterflies. The threat of death loomed over him at all times. But it was his duty.

He nearly grimaced as he saw the approaching mansion. More than ever, he couldn't wait for the war to be over.

* * *

"Does he know?"

"What?"

"Does my bodyguard know about the... complication?" Sherlock asked.

"He'll be briefed once he arrives," Mycroft soothed.

"I don't like this. It's risky."

"And when do you ever care about risks?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mycroft. Risks in the name of science are a completely different matter."

"Well you'll have to compromise if you care at all for your life."

Sherlock scoffed. "This whole thing is ridiculous."

"No, you're being ridiculous. We're going to London and that's final. The attack is approaching and I'm not giving you a choice. Now pack your important things. The fingers in the refrigerator don't count."

* * *

"Alright, everyone out!" the commander shouted.

John hopped out of the trunk with nearly twenty other men. They were all brought to the front gate, high and barred. A button was pressed and words were exchanged before it swung open and they marched towards the house.

Watson looked bitterly upon the looming mansion. The entire thing was ridiculous. His whole purpose in the mission was ridiculous. He... he smelled something unusual. Watson sniffed the air again.

There was no denying the sweet aroma of a young omega. Watson scanned the men around him. All military men. All alphas. He needed to find the source of the scent. Maybe it was a mate? He hadn't been briefed on any mates. Hopefully their lives weren't in his hands as well.

"Smell that?" he murmured to his friend, Mike Stamford.

"Smell what?"

"An omega," Watson clarified. "Can't you smell it? The odor is so potent. It'll make the mission a lot harder. The enemy will certainly be attracted to it."

Stamford gave him a puzzled look. "John, I don't smell anything. You're probably just missing the omega scent."

John pursed his lips. He could feel his hormones beginning to escalate. There was definitely a strong omega scent nearby. He was intent on finding it.

* * *

Sherlock sneezed. "This place reeks of foreign alphas," he complained.

"I'm aware. You're using the extra strength suppressant, correct?"

"Of course Mycroft. Don't be daft."

There was a sharp knock on the door and Mycroft strode over to answer it. "Yes, come in," he said, sweeping the door wide and beckoning the soldiers forward. They filtered through and he rejoined his brother.

Sherlock sneezed again, bitterly noting the strong appeal of an alpha's scent. This could be an issue. He scanned the faces with his sharp grey eyes before they settled on a short, attractive blond. He sniffed the air again. Yes, the scent was coming from him.

"Which one is that?" he asked Mycroft, nodding his head in the blond soldier's direction.

"John Watson," Mycroft murmured. "He's the one I picked as your protector."

Sherlock paled. "No. Pick another."

"For heaven's sake, Sherlock, stop being a baby. He's the most qualified to deal with you."

"I don't care," Sherlock snapped, but Mycroft was ignoring him. Sherlock could feel his omega pheromones practically seeping out of every pore in this alpha's presence. Never before he had felt desire, and now it gripped him at the throat.

* * *

Watson caught sight of a tall figure. Lean, with dark curls and stunning grey eyes. He breathed deeply through his nose. Yes, the scent was coming from this male. Never before had he found a male omega's scent so appealing. Or anyone's scent, for that matter. It was simply intoxicating.

And then reality crashed upon him. This must be the younger Holmes. The one he was sent to protect. Not an alpha at all, but clearly an omega. Watson was slightly surprised at how maintained all the other alphas were in this strong omega presence. Then he caught another whiff.

Beta suppressant.

Holmes was not an open omega. Interesting. Watson could already feel the complexity of the situation building.


	2. Chapter 2

"Captain John Watson at your service," the commander announced to Sherlock, beckoning Watson over towards him. Watson extended a hand that Sherlock regarded coldly.

Watson could feel his alpha hormones flare at Sherlock's passive stance. They urged him to grab the omega and kiss him roughly, showing his dominance as the alpha. But Watson was not without morals or self control. He was disgusted at the ideas that presented themselves in his mind.

Watson withdrew his hand and stood erect. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have a private word with you about strategy for your protection," he announced to the tall Holmes boy.

Sherlock noticeably stiffened. "Can you not say it aloud now, amongst our traveling company?"

Watson suppressed a laugh, letting only the very corners of his mouth turn up. "I believe it is a matter which you would prefer to discuss privately." He sniffed noticeably, trying to get the point across.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes refused to acknowledge the heavy beating of his heart every time the soldier opened his mouth. He would not give in to these strange hormone surges he hadn't felt since being placed on the suppressants. While part of him insisted on listening to the alpha's every command, he fought against those illogical urges. Sherlock told himself that he could not trust this soldier, but in reality he wasn't sure if he could trust himself.

"We can speak in the next room with the presence of Mycroft," Sherlock managed to reply, rather stiffly. Despite years of combat training and self defense lessons to protect himself from bossy alphas, Sherlock felt unsafe at the idea of being alone with this Watson fellow. Bringing Mycroft along could prove wise.

"Alright," the alpha replied. "Lead the way."

Sherlock's heart must've skipped a few beats at Watson's words. When did alphas ever willingly let an alpha take charge? This one was certainly different.

He grabbed his brother, despite Mycroft's protests about being dragged away from his conversation with the leader, and led both Mycroft and Watson to the silence held behind the large oak doors of the library.

"What is it now?" Mycroft complained.

Sherlock glanced nervously at Watson. He couldn't know, could he? It was impossible.

"John Watson, sir," the blond soldier said, introducing himself to Mycroft. "I believe your brother's condition is a matter of concern if I am to properly protect him."

"What condition do you speak of? His idiocy? Or his stubbornness? I assure you they become somewhat tolerable over time."

Sherlock could feel his fists clench at his side before noticing the blond man's gaze on his figure. Suddenly his entire body felt like gelatin.

"The concern I have is in reference to your brother's gender. As I'm sure you're aware, using so many alphas to transport an omega does run risks, especially if the omega enters heat."

Sherlock spat at the ground. "I'm perfectly capable of fighting off any alpha."

"I'm sure you are," John Watson replied with a hint of sarcasm, "but my concern is for the mission as a whole. The pheromones you would release would distract the troops. I'm not certain a group of alphas isolated so long from omegas would be able to dismiss the scent easily. It would risk the integrity of the entire effort."

"May I ask who informed you my brother is an omega?" Mycroft cut in.

"No one told me. It's obvious. He reeks of omega scent."

"But you see, that shouldn't be possible. We've been dousing him in the highest quality suppressants since we discovered he was an omega. Now he just smells... Beta."

Watson shrugged. "It's obvious to me. I don't think the others have noticed yet, but I could tell before I walked through the door."

Sherlock sneezed. The confidence and certainty exuding from the man, coupled with his above-average intelligence, was making his head slightly dizzy. Watson smirked slightly at the sneeze, and Sherlock was tempted to kiss it off his face.

"Well," Mycroft began. "This is certainly a valid point. The mission cannot be compromised, and Sherlock cannot be outed as an omega. What do you propose, Watson? I can see you have some idea formed."

"I am standing right here, you know." Sherlock felt the tinge of annoyance at being discussed without his own input.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Let's hear out this man before you start with your obscure hypotheses."

Watson bit back a laugh. "Well I think it's clear Sherlock cannot remain with the convoy while in heat. It is also unlikely he could be transported during that time as well. Provisions must be arranged to move him separately."

Sherlock crossed his arms, annoyed at being referred to like cattle. "I'm not going with some random alpha. This is completely ridiculous. I'll be fine."

Watson shifted uncomfortably. "Thing is, the orders were to relocate Mycroft Holmes. It was only through Mycroft's bidding that I was brought along to guard the younger Holmes. If the commander gets word that you are an omega, or if you go into heat during the transport, he will not hesitate to discard you on the side of a road. He will not risk his mission, and it only requires bringing Mycroft to safety."

Sherlock scoffed. "What are you suggesting? That I go separately with you?"

"Precisely."

Sherlock swallowed. He didn't trust himself around this alpha. And how was he to trust this alpha around him if he went into heat? Still... It was the most logical solution. And he wouldn't mind a break from Mycroft's constant watch. Besides, this alpha was short. He could take him on if necessary.

"Alright," Sherlock said.

"Excuse me?" Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

"I said alright. It's the most logical reasoning. Watson and I will go separately with a truck loaded with provisions and a beta driver. We'll meet you in London."

Sherlock could feel his blood warm throughout his body. This mission would be risky. It was deliciously thrilling.

* * *

Watson caught a gleam in the younger Holmes's startlingly pale blue eyes. Watson himself felt a sort of thrill at the plan that he quickly stuffed deep inside. He could not let the allure of this boy get to him. It would be the biggest risk they'd face.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

"Are you sure you have absolutely everything?" Mycroft asked.

"Everything but my microscope," Sherlock pouted. "Why can't I take it with me?"

Mycroft sighed. "Because it's cumbersome. We're escaping, not casually moving."

"But I need it."

"I'll buy you a new one when we get to London," Mycroft promised. Sherlock still stuck out his bottom lip, but he stopped complaining.

"Ready to go?"

Sherlock turned towards the door and felt his heart flutter. Watson was standing in the doorway in army fatigue, a large duffle bag swung over his shoulder and a crooked smile on his face. His blond hair was cropped short, but still long enough for Sherlock to tell by the way it was tussled that Watson had had a restless night.

Sherlock swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "Ready," he managed, somehow keeping his voice still deep instead of squeaking.

"Alright then. Let's move."

Traveling separately with Sherlock Holmes meant both men were placed in the back of a small car while the beta driver sat alone in the front. The windows were one-way so no one could see through, but Watson was alert for any signs of danger outside. Or, he was supposed to be. He was mildly distracted by the overpowering omega scent so close beside him. An alpha and an omega compacted into one small vehicle.

The car was one of those smart cars meant to blend in with everyday traffic and limit the number of fuel stops they'd need. Watson couldn't help but miss the military vehicles he was accustomed to, especially when the entirety of the vehicle was occupied by three men and a whole ton of stuff.

It seemed the Holmes boy had packed his entire closet, likely at the insistence of his brother. After all, those silk shirts were probably worth more than Watson made in a year. He had caught a glimpse of strange contraptions as well, and a giant magnifying glass with a sharp blade-like handle.

"Plan to stab anyone with that?" he asked sarcastically, nodding towards the sharpened magnifying glass.

Sherlock wrapped long porcelain fingers around the handle and hummed slightly. "I did once."

Watson raised his eyebrows. "Really? Why would a skinny, pampered rich guy like you need to stab anyone?"

Sherlock turned the blade in his hands. "I got in some trouble with an alpha," he said casually. "He came at me. So I stabbed him."

Watson couldn't entirely supress the admiration he had for the man standing up for himself. He hated when alphas forced themselves upon omegas. It was always good to hear about an omega fighting back. "That's fantastic," he confessed.

Sherlock grunted. "The fantastic part was how I managed to convince the biased judge it was self defense. Stupid alpha didn't understand why I was adamant against forced bonding. Thought I should have just accepted it. Though I do believe my brother likely pulled some strings to get me off."

Watson looked out the window, trying to withhold his disgust. "The corruption in the world is disgusting."

"Mmm, yes, but resources are focused more on the recent issue. The disease still has no cure and has yet to be contained."

Watson looked up. "You can't even imagine," he told Sherlock. "Not until you see it with your own eyes."

"Where were you stationed?" Sherlock asked suddenly.

"Wherever I was needed. I worked with special ops. Got sent wherever there was the least amount of hope. Bloody nightmare." Watson shivered slightly, remembering some of the worst nights. In that moment he would have given a leg to curl against the omega seated beside him and bury his face in the long white neck, breathing in the calming scent.

Maybe it was a desperate imagination, but he thought Sherlock moved ever so slightly closer.

"You're distressed," Sherlock murmured.

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Do... do you mind if I try something? I'm not sure if it will work, but it's something I've read about before."

Watson looked at the icy blue eyes. They were rimmed with concern. He could smell Sherlock's desperation to help. "Alright," he said cautiously.

"Just... stay still." Sherlock reached out his hands and placed his wide palms against Watson's temples.

The sensation was electrifying. The sudden contact left Watson gasping for breath as he felt Sherlock sift through his emotions, withdrawing information from Watson's mind about the war. Wherever he touched, he left behind a warm feeling of comfort. The experience was invasive, but unbelievably soothing. Watson hadn't realized how stressed and bitter he had become until Sherlock took those things away.

When Sherlock withdrew, his eyes zoned out as if he were contemplating a mystery. He seemed less affected by the experience than Watson felt.

"How... how did you do that?" Watson asked, but Sherlock appeared to be in another world.

"Sherlock," he tried again, roughly shoving a bony shoulder. "What was that?"

"Hmm? Oh, right. It's an omega ability. Not too common as it takes a lot of concentration and mental ability that most people lack."

Watson leaned back in the seat. "I've never even heard of anything like that," he admitted. "How rare is it?"

Sherlock shrugged and looked out the window. "It can only be used on a soulmate, so it's rather hard to tell."

Watson paled, speechless.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

"We're not soulmates," Watson asserted.

"Of course we are," was Sherlock's casual reply, completed with an eye roll.

"But it's not possible."

"Once you eliminate the impossible, what remains, however improbable, is the truth."

"Look, I'm not... gay. I mean, you're attractive and everything, and you smell bloody brilliant, but I... yeah."

Sherlock turned his gaze away from the window to focus on Watson. "I'm merely stating facts. I have no actual interest in soulmates or bonding or anything of the sort."

Watson felt flustered beneath the stare but still managed an affirming "okay." He couldn't be soulmates with this strange man. He had heard a few stories about soulmates, generally fairy tales... but the truth was, they were a mystery to nearly everyone. There were always rumors about the strange powers between soulmate alphas and omegas.

And what if this man beside him really was his soulmate? Watson briefly looked him over. Tall and lanky. Thick black curls. Stunning pale blue eyes. Sharp cheekbones. He was oddly attractive. Watson had never been with a man before. Or an omega.

Omegas were rare and Watson feared bonding too early. First he needed to get through college. And then the draft began, and the idea of bonding meant leaving behind a mate and making the war experience even more miserable. Watson had found himself satisfied enough with beta women.

He was only twenty five. If he managed to survive the war, he had plenty of time to find an omega and bond. If he wanted that. He had never met an omega that encouraged that thought in his mind.

"So... the whole soulmates thing. Is that why I can smell your hormones despite the suppressants?"

"I would assume so," Sherlock agreed.

"At least that should keep us safer until your heat. We need to get as close to London as we can before that happens."

Sherlock snorted. "Biology is quite ridiculous, don't you agree? My body goes through this stupid process that leaves me vulnerable and anxious, and for what?"

"For reproduction."

"Yes, Watson, obviously. But the human population is unnecessarily large as it is. It's just not important for species survival anymore. I believe I would prefer to be a beta."

"You don't enjoy your heats?"

"No."

"Never?" Watson asked, surprised. Alphas certainly enjoyed omega heats. Shouldn't omegas enjoy them too?

"Never. I find them tedious, unnecessary, and disruptive to my work."

Watson remembered to shut his hanging jaw. "Maybe you need a new partner then."

Sherlock cast him a sidelong glance and Watson cringed at the sound of his words, realizing how they sounded.

* * *

Sherlock was tempted to ask if Watson was offering. Tempted. But he knew better. He just needed to make it to London, and then they could go their separate ways. He'd never have to see John Watson again. But for some reason he couldn't find comfort in that.

"Biological warfare is always nasty business. But this. This is another category altogether. How much do you know about the virus?" Sherlock was desperate to change the subject away from his heat.

"You looked into my head," Watson replied defensively.

"Briefly. I barely touched the surface and I let you guide me through. If I wanted to, I could find every deep secret and memory you have in there against your will. I assumed that could be considered rude though."

"You should know I carry a gun."

Sherlock bit his lip, realizing he was tempted for the first time outside of heat to kiss someone.

Stupid, stupid hormones.

"The virus affects the nervous system, altering it in a way that produces a zombie-like effect. About two percent of the world population is estimated to be immune. The virus originated in eastern Europe, but the initial spread was too quick to pinpoint the exact location. Only half of the victims convert to the 'zombie' state. The other half..."

"They suffer immense pain," Watson cut in. "As though they're burning from the inside out. Yeah, I've seen that much."

"And the zombies are cannibals."

"I know that part all too well."

Sherlock hesitated. Should he confide in this soldier? "There's something more. The behaviors... it's like they're following orders. They're not a careless mess of sickness. They're organized. They move like an army. They seem to have some sort of directive."

Watson's eyebrows drew together. "You mean... you think someone's controlling them?"

"Most of the victims that alter into the zombie state are alphas or omegas. I suspect the virus alters the hormones so they have an irrational sort of 'bond' to a certain source giving them orders. But I can't be sure. I need to capture one. To run tests."

"Capture?" Watson let out a harsh laugh. "I've seen them, Sherlock. They're not stray cats. They're vicious, organized, and cunning. You'll get yourself killed or converted."

Sherlock shrugged. "I have to try, don't I? Aren't you doing the same thing, being a soldier?"

"It's a suicide mission."

"If someone doesn't do something, your job is a suicide mission as well." Sherlock turned back to watch the passing countryside, bringing an end to all conversation as an uncomfortable silence fell between the two young men.


	5. Chapter 5

Watson couldn't handle the silence pressing upon his eardrums. He needed more answers from the mysterious Sherlock Holmes. Eventually his patience snapped.

"Alright. Tell me. How can you so casually call us soulmates? You don't even know me."

Sherlock didn't turn from the window. "What does knowing each other have to do with anything?"

Watson crossed his arms. "To me, everything. I don't understand how you could call anyone your soulmate without even knowing them. We aren't even friends. Just acquaintances."

Sherlock looked at Watson and rolled his eyes. "It's just science, Watson. It doesn't actually mean anything to me, you know."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means that I know we're soulmates because all the scientific evidence is there. But it also means that I don't actually care that you're my soulmate. That doesn't change anything. Once we get to London and your job is done, we'll go our separate ways, like planned."

"Then what was the point of telling me we're soulmates?"

Sherlock shrugged. "You asked how I could look into your memories. I told you. It was a basic observation, nothing more."

"Yeah, okay. I get it." Watson blinked. "No, actually, I don't."

Sherlock sighed. "It's biology, Watson. Just science. Nothing more. It's like... an erection. Sometimes it just happens for no apparent reason. It doesn't mean I'm attracted to you necessarily. It just happens. And it doesn't need to be acted upon."

Watson let out a short laugh. "That was a bloody brilliant analogy," he said sarcastically. "So that means... it'll just go away after some time, right?"

"Well, no, I assume that's where the analogy stops. We'll always be soulmates, but it doesn't mean we have to be bondmates. Which we won't be, of course."

"Then what is the point of this whole soulmate thing?"

"It's like bonding, but between two minds and without choice. It just means our minds are highly compatible. It's supposed to create a stronger bond between two mates and gives certain abilities, especially once the physical bond has been consummated. Like I said, it's just biology."

* * *

Sherlock wished Watson would shut up about soulmates already. He despised the idea that his mind was 'compatible' with anyone's. His mind was superior. It shouldn't be compatible with that of an average soldier. And he was adamant against bonding. So why did his bloody mind have to find a soul bond with someone? The kind of bond he couldn't control. He hated it.

If there was one thing Sherlock absolutely despised, it was his biology. He hated being an omega. Heats were practically unbearable as he was forced to acknowledge his body. It should be nothing more than a vessel for the mind. He could manage hunger, and pain, but heats left him spiraling out of control as his mind lost the battle over his physical needs. At least his family had agreed to purchase him the expensive suppressants. They managed to shorten heats and make them less frequent. But they still came.

It wasn't fair. Mycroft was an alpha. His father was an alpha. Sherrinford was an alpha. Yet he and his mother had the misfortune of being omegas. Albeit Mrs. Holmes was a rather feisty omega who instilled independence into her youngest son. Still, Sherlock had always wanted to be an alpha like the rest of his family.

It would be wonderful if he could stop the swarm of butterflies in his stomach around this Watson fellow. It would be relieving to calm the anxiety in his hands, desperate to spread their long pale fingers across the soldier's broad chest. He could relax more if his lips didn't itch for Watson's in a way similar to his cigarette cravings, but possibly more powerful. Damn it all.

And while his mind told him that it refused to bond, to even consider bonding, his body ached with the knowledge that here beside him sat his soulmate. The man that would complete him. The one who would allow him to unlock his full omega potential and powers. And the one who could satisfy that unquenchable ache he sustained throughout his heats that never seemed to fully go away. But even if his mind were to change, this man was a soldier determined to return to the front lines, and a soldier who insisted he wasn't interested and rather appalled at Sherlock's observations.

Even if he wasn't. Even if Sherlock managed to change John Watson's mind. What would happen when he returned to the war? He would surely die there. Until there was a cure, John Watson would be fighting until he died. And Sherlock wasn't sure if, once he was fully bonded to this man, he would be able to handle the separation. Or the death. It would be a pain that he knew would be felt resonating through their soul bond. It would leave him crippled with despair for the rest of his life without Watson. No, Sherlock would not submit himself to the torments his body seemed to wish upon him.

And suddenly, everything became even more unbearable once Sherlock realized he had forgotten (subconsciously?) his suppressants. His body was hell-bent on sabotaging his mind.

* * *

John Watson wasn't gay. Right? No, he had definitely been attracted to females in the past. Not that there was anything wrong with being gay. There wasn't. His sister was gay. Oh gosh, he could imagine the look on his parents' faces to hear that both their children were gay. But he wasn't gay. Bisexual? Maybe. Wait, what?

Watson let out an inner sigh. Bisexual. Yes, he was probably bisexual, now that he thought about it. He had always denied his attractions to men. Probably in a desperate attempt to win his father's approval, which never came. But yes, he was completely infatuated with the man next to him, despite his mind's protests. The smell. Sherlock smelled so bloody good, and Watson couldn't help enjoying the thought that the warm scent was for him, only for him. He could smell it, while the other alphas couldn't, and that gave him a deep satisfaction in the depths of his gut.

But Sherlock seemed uninterested in sex. To him, it was just a science. Unnecessary biology. Watson wanted to protest, to tell him how good it could feel. To promise him that if they really were soulmates, it'd be better than anything he'd ever experienced before. He wanted to insist his other partners had likely been inadequate for him. After all, they couldn't compare to a soulmate, right? Surely Watson would be superior. But Sherlock's stance was clear and Watson's mouth remained shut.

The sooner they got to London and went their separate ways, the better. Bonus if they could pull it off before Sherlock's next heat left them trapped in a storm of hormones.


	6. Chapter 6

The first day was rather uneventful. The second day left Sherlock squirming anxiously in his seat. He was constantly tapping his feet and drumming his fingers, looking around expectantly.

"Alright, I give up. What's wrong?" Watson questioned.

Sherlock glanced at him. "There is nothing to do. I'm bored."

"I'm bored too but I'm not shaking the entire vehicle, am I?"

"No. I need something. To stimulate the mind. I can't handle this!" he exploded.

Watson sighed. "You're impossible."

Sherlock wanted to suggest ways that Watson could keep him occupied. With a groan he thought of his forgotten suppressants. It was his hormones speaking. At this rate, a heat was inevitable. And more than ever, Watson smelled so unbelievably delicious.

Within a few days he would be desperately touching himself, wishing the hands on his hardened prick belonged to the man next to him. Part of him hoped the overflow of hormones would bring him into a passionate frenzy with the soldier. Part of him hated the idea of letting anyone touch him. Part of him knew Watson was a master of self control, and would be able to withstand his hormones, leaving Sherlock writhing helplessly.

It was the sound of gunfire that shook the car, awakening Sherlock from his fantasies. Watson was already crouched down, putting together a rifle while the beta driver swerved on the road.

"Get down!" he hissed to Sherlock before turning to the driver. "Over there. Behind that building. Let me scope out the area."

The driver obediently pulled the car off the road as the shots continued ringing through the air.

"I'm going to climb onto the roof and survey the area. You stay here, hidden," Watson commanded.

"No. Let me help," Sherlock argued, standing up and reaching for the door handle.

"My job is to get you safely to London and I swear if I have to break your legs to complete the mission I will."

Sherlock hated the stupid grin that appeared on his face. "Someone's an overprotective alpha," he teased.

Watson stiffened slightly. "Shut up and just listen."

"No. Why should I?"

"So you don't get shot, for one!" Watson shouted. The air was thick with tension.

Sherlock shrugged. "I've been in dangerous situations before. I need this. I'm so bored."

Watson stared with unblinking eyes. "This isn't a game, Sherlock. People have died."

"I know. Come along Watson, it's time to solve this war."

Sherlock reached for the door handle once again when the sound of shattering glass stopped his movement. The driver slumped over, hitting the steering wheel as the horn blared.

"Shit, Sherlock!" Watson yelled. "Hurry and get out! We can't stay here."

Watson bolted towards the building with Sherlock trailing behind. They managed to reach the door unscathed. "Shit, shit, shit!" Watson groaned. "We're going to need a new vehicle, if we can manage to make it out of here alive."

They leaned against the inside hallway, breathing heavily. "If there's gunfire, troops should be nearby," Sherlock pointed out.

"Yeah," Watson agreed. "But where, and how do we safely reach them? I need to scope the area." He started climbing a nearby staircase, leaving Sherlock temporarily mesmerized by the shapely ass in army fatigues before following.

* * *

They reached the roof. Carefully Watson stepped out, holding his gun steady. The last thing he wanted was to be bit by a zombie. He had seen men writhe in pain and scream in anguish, collapsing before him until he placed a bullet in their heads.

As he stepped out, he noticed several other men crouched in the shadows. Their heads snapped around and guns were pointed immediately at Watson.

"Hands up!" one shouted, and Watson immediately obeyed.

"Army soldier John Watson from mission 57 requesting assistance!"

"John?" One of the men lowered his gun. "John Watson?"

"James?" Watson asked, stepping forward.

"What are you doing here, John?" James asked. He sniffed the air. "And who's the omega you've brought? Smells good."

Watson couldn't suppress the growl in his chest at the mention of Sherlock. He could almost feel the condescending smirk Sherlock was casting from behind. But he could also smell the discomfort Sherlock had in the presence of these foreign alphas.

"Nobody touches the omega," Watson growled. "He's with me."

James sniffed the air again. "Hmm... You never were one for males. And this one's heat is approaching. Why don't you let me take him off your hands during that time?"

Sherlock spoke up. "I am no one's omega, and I refuse to take a partner during my heats."

Watson held back a slight whimper. So Sherlock was a virgin. He was untouched. Watson wanted him more than ever. And judging by the increased pheromones swimming around, so did the other men.

"But you really should take a partner," James coaxed. "How unsatisfying your heats must be. I bet they're nearly painful for you."

Sherlock's discomfort radiated through Watson's body. "Sholto, stop. No one is touching him without his permission."

But dammit, how his body was beginning to ache for the omega. And he could feel the testosterone coursing through his veins, ready to fight off anyone who dared challenge him over Sherlock.

And suddenly Sherlock's lips were right beside his ear. "Thank you," Sherlock murmured.

Never before had Watson been so grateful for gunshots. They rang out persistently as a bullet whizzed past Sholto's head, distracting the alphas from their disagreement over the omega.

"Fill me in," Watson commanded.

Sholto pointed north. "Zombies coming from that direction. Somewhere around ten to twenty thousand."

"They're organized," Sherlock murmured nearby. "They're searching for something. But what?"

"They're searching for brains to eat," the soldier with Sholto said. "Duh."

Sherlock scowled. "It's more than that. This virus has been developed. It didn't mutate from another known source. It's as though the creator wanted to create an army, affected as though through mind control. But for what purpose? Not to wipe out human life. That would leave nothing for the creator. There has to be something he's searching for, and he seems to believe it's in England."

Watson grinned. "I believe he's right. We're missing something."

"Whatever," Sholto's partner said. "Let's just blast some heads off, yeah?"

Sholto shrugged. "That's what we're here for."

A few more bullets came frighteningly close, and Watson found himself tugging Sherlock to the ground.

"Get off," Sherlock protested.

"Shut up," Watson replied, lying on his stomach and aiming his gun. Sholto and the other soldier followed his lead.

"There's a group of the bastards shooting at us at two o'clock," Watson announced. He released a volley of bullets upon the zombies, eventually halting the attack upon the building.

He scanned the area, looking for a vehicle he could steal. Upon finding one, he nudged Sherlock to follow him. "Down there," he pointed. "Follow my lead."

Sherlock stopped him at the bottom of the staircase. "I... ah... need to get supplies from the car."

"What?" Watson began, before realizing Sherlock was referring to the bag of toys he had brought along. Of course. Sherlock's heat was approaching and he never took a partner. He'd need that bag to survive. Without toys or a partner, he could easily die.

"You stay here," Watson insisted. "I'll get the bag."

"I'm perfectly capable of..."

"I have the gun," Watson pointed out before taking off.

He climbed into the car and pulled out the bag, avoiding looking at the body of the driver. The horn was still blasting. As he turned around to make his way back to Sherlock, he came face-to-face with a pack of zombies.

Watson pulled out his gun and killed the first few before he was surrounded. His heart began to race as he tried to find a way out. He could shoot a path and run through, right? The circle tightened around him as sickly thin creatures bared blood-stained teeth.

And then he realized one held a gun, directed upon his chest. Watson was dead.

* * *

Sherlock didn't think. He just acted. Once he noticed Watson was in danger he sprang towards the car, searching through his clutter. Ah. Here it was. He raced towards the ensuing chaos and with quick thrust watched the bladed handle of his magnifying glass come out the other side of the armed zombie's neck.

Quickly he turned his aim towards the rest of the monsters surrounding John. Between the two men, they cleared the surrounding chaos within seconds.

Watson let out a deep breath. "Holy shit. That was close."

Sherlock could only nod in reply.

Watson was looking up at him with his dark blue eyes. His hands trembled slightly and his forehead was wrinkled. "Sherlock," he began.

"It was nothing," Sherlock quickly said with a shrug.

"You saved my life," Watson whispered. "I thought for certain I was dead this time."

"Really, Watson, I..."

"John."

"What?"

"Call me John."

Sherlock's gut lurched. "John."

John Watson smiled and it sent a warmth flowing through Sherlock.

Oh shit. His heat.


End file.
